


The Last to Know: The First to Know

by arturas



Series: the light surrounding you [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lods (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Feel-good, First Times, Gay Sex, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Nerves, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, abuse of Echani traditions, and of course some emotions, does that still apply if the rest of the plot is in another story entirely, for some things at least, good people have good sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arturas/pseuds/arturas
Summary: Various bits of smut from The Last to Know continuity, featuring Light Side male Exile Jax Surik and everyone's favourite snarky pilot Atton Rand. Each chapter's a standalone.
Relationships: Male Jedi Exile/Atton "Jaq" Rand, The Jedi Exile/Atton "Jaq" Rand
Series: the light surrounding you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085324
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	The Last to Know: The First to Know

**Author's Note:**

> It's absolutely not required to read The Last to Know to understand what's going on here but it certainly won't hurt - especially if you like warm fuzzies and fluffy humour. Big old warning for gay sex aplenty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The promised smut scene from The Last to Know. Atton agrees to give Jax some Echani training; Jax has other things in mind. Fortunately Atton's a quick learner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene slots directly into 'The Last to Know' - the start of it is a direct copy of the relevant lead-in, because why try to rewrite what's already there? Warnings for gay sex, awkwardness, nerves a-plenty, blowjobs, fingering, minor frotting and some good-old-fashioned passionate fucking. Mild warning for (technically) a Master/padawan dynamic but it's not part of the actual sex (or even really the relationship itself); it just is what it is. As always - concrits and kudos loved and appreciated. Happy new year!

It surprises Atton how quickly he relaxes back into the pattern of Echani training. There’s a little bit of awkwardness upon first disrobing, true, but it’s not like Jax has never seen scars (or half-naked men) before. Beyond some faint colouring on his cheeks and a polite question to confirm that none of Atton’s scars are still painful to the touch, he is every bit the model student.

Atton wonders if it’s the whole Force thing that makes Jedi look so healthy. Despite living on the same diet of ration bars, nutrient pouches and questionable alcohol as the rest of them Jax doesn’t have the pasty spacer’s pallor that Atton does. The man almost looks _tanned_. It’s not fair.

…though if it _is_ the Force then Atton should look a little less corpse-like by now, surely. Maybe Jax just has better genes. It wouldn’t surprise him.

They start with a quick briefing on general etiquette. It quickly becomes apparent that for all her coaching prowess (he can begrudgingly give her that; Jax’s technique is impeccable) the handmaiden has failed to teach him anything about good manners beyond declaring the rules of the bout before beginning. Nothing about seniority, about hand positioning, about proper finishing and starting positions – none of it.

At least Jax is an earnest student. And it’s not like he’s being _deliberately_ rude.

‘I really don’t get it,’ Jax says, sounding flustered. ‘I promise, I’m not _trying_ to insult you –’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Atton interrupts. It’s not fine – this is the fourth time Jax has grabbed him by the waist instead of the hips for a throw and Atton’s not used to having to correct him so many times – but he can’t fault the man for trying to overturn a few decade’s worth of muscle memory in the span of a few hours. ‘These things happen. What aren’t you getting?’

‘The position. You say “hips” and I’m _sure_ I’m grabbing your hips but evidently I’m not.’

‘You’re _definitely_ not. Here – I’ll show you.’ Before Jax can protest Atton’s grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. Atton shifts into position behind him automatically. ‘All right; take notes, because there’ll be a quiz soon. This is where you’re putting your hands –’ he reaches around to firmly grip Jax by the waist, eliciting a small start from the man. He must have cold hands, he thinks distractedly, which is strange because both he and Jax feel quite warm – ‘and this is your _waist_. You can tell because there’s no bones, just muscle. This is where you _should_ be putting your hands –’ he slides down to grip Jax by the hips. Jax doesn’t jump this time, probably thanks to his underwear providing a bit of insulation against Atton’s hands – ‘on the hips. You can feel the bones.’

‘I… see.’ Jax shifts slightly. His back’s pressing up against Atton’s chest; he’s probably as uncomfortably warm as Atton is. ‘And is it purely a question of etiquette?’

‘Partly. If we were doing this in the buff, it’d also be a bit easier to grip.’ He squeezes, to demonstrate, and then releases his hands and steps back. He doesn’t feel any cooler, oddly enough. They must really be working hard. ‘Okay; let’s go again. Same pattern. When I see an opening I’ll go for the tier-one sweep, you block and throw me to the ground. If you do it right, we’ll continue the match on the ground. Sound good?’

Jax turns around, flushed, and nods determinedly. ‘Hips, not waist. Got it.’

‘Good.’ Atton takes the starting stance, waits until Jax mirrors him, and then the match begins.

It doesn’t take long before Jax leaves him a perfect opening for the first-tier sweep. Atton takes it and – to his equal relief and satisfaction – this time Jax grabs him in the right spot. Calloused hands lock onto Atton’s hips, a leg jams behind his knee and he’s sent sprawling backwards the ground. He feels a brief wave of pride before Jax drops on top of him and attempts a pin.

He’s still proud, of course, but he’s got pride of his own, and he refuses to reward mastering such a basic bit of etiquette by throwing the match.

Jax scrabbles for his wrists, grinning. ‘Better?’

‘Much – but don’t you get cocky on me.’ He lets Jax get one of his wrists in exchange for nudging one of his knees between the man’s legs, twisting to force them apart so that he can get his foot braced in preparation for a flip.

Jax responds by dropping the rest of his bodyweight solidly on top of Atton. Atton’s slightly taller but Jax is broader in the shoulders and somewhat better-muscled; it’s not a crushing weight but it definitely prevents Atton from rolling him over now. Atton growls and abandons the flip to get a rudimentary leg-lock in place. If he can’t roll the man off him he’ll keep him close enough for a choke.

Jax seems to know what he’s about to do though, because rather than focus on breaking the leg-lock he reaches up to pin Atton’s second wrist to the ground. He has to lean forward as it’s a bit of a stretch – Atton was trying to keep that hand out of his grasp – and they end up nose-to-nose, practically, breathing hard.

‘Tap,’ Jax orders, voice husky from exertion. A bead of sweat rolls from his forehead and drips onto Atton’s cheek. ‘I’ve got you pinned.’

‘Pinned nothing; I’ve got your leg.’ He tries to squirm free, using his grasp on Jax’s leg as anchorage to press his hips and chest up, and succeeds in raising them both from the ground briefly. But Jax is a born fighter and when Atton slams them back to the ground (with a slight wince; he forgot that they were grappling on the cargo-bay floor and not a proper training mat) he keeps his grip on Atton’s wrists without trouble.

He doesn’t have a way to support his upper body, though, and when they jolt back down his head goes down too. To his credit he avoids smashing his chin into Atton’s nose. Instead they end up cheek-to-cheek, chest-to-chest, _still_ breathing hard.

Atton finds himself wondering distractedly if Jax’s pupils have always been this large. If he didn’t know better he’d think the man was on glitter. It’d definitely explain how warm Jax is. It’d also kind of explain how hard Jax is breathing (though to be fair, Atton’s breathing hard as well and he’s definitely not on glitter).

A few seconds later, Atton realizes that something _else_ is also hard. Hard, warm and pressing proudly against his stomach.

To his mortification, it’s not Jax.

Well – not _just_ him, either, unless Jax has a third hipbone.

‘Heh.’ Jax’s breath is hot in his ear. ‘Not just my leg, huh?’

Atton attempts to tell Jax that he’s sorry, he didn’t mean for it to happen, they need to stop, but the words get jumbled up between his brain and his mouth and what comes out instead is, ‘Sorry – didn’t mean – to stop.’

Jax chuckles. ‘Me neither.’

And then the next thing Atton knows is that there’s a set of warm lips pressing firmly against his and then there’s a tongue flicking against his teeth and then _his_ tongue is in Jax’s mouth and _someone’s_ started rocking slowly –

Well, not someone. _He_ started rocking slowly. Grinding, almost. And damned if it doesn’t feel really, _really_ good, but –

‘What,’ he says, the moment they pull apart, ‘the _shit_?’

Jax’s eager and excited expression freezes. ‘Huh?’

‘I don’t – I – _what_?’

‘You mean – you don’t –’

‘I meant – sorry – _sorry_!’ Two syllables is apparently the most his brain can handle right now. ‘I, uh – _krif_ , Jax, I am so, so sorry –‘

He’s still hard. Worse, his body doesn’t want to stop. He has to consciously prevent himself from pushing back up against Jax; he’s not getting the man off until his wrists are free.

His body apparently agrees with that but not in the way Atton wants it to, and he chokes on his own spit trying to get the unwanted (but surprisingly not unpleasant) mental image out of his head.

‘No, no, I should be sorry,’ Jax babbles, looking more and more distraught as the seconds pass. ‘I mean – I assumed – I thought I’d read things correctly, and everyone else seemed to be on the same page –’

‘ _What_?’ he chokes. ‘Everyone – _how_?’

‘Well, Brianna told me about your conversation with her in the cargo bay –’

_“Why don’t you just tell him already?”_

‘– and the incident with Mandalore on Onderon –’

_“Never seen a Jedi so reliant on his pilot before.”_

‘ – even HK seemed to notice –’

_“Statement: So many matters could be resolved if even one meatbag simply looked at the situation logically and spoke their mind openly, rather than relying on another ignorant meatbag overcoming their stupidity long enough to follow the first one’s implications.”_

And Atton suddenly realizes with horrifying clarity exactly _why_ Bao-Dur found it so amusing to remind him to bring protection to an Echani training session.

And why Mira found it so amusing to suggest that Atton might mean a lot to his master.

And why practically _everyone_ on board the _Ebon Hawk_ seems to mill by the security console when Jax stops by the cockpit.

He’s going to space himself. He really, really is.

‘– but I take it from your expression,’ Jax finishes carefully, ‘that perhaps the – ah – implications of those conversations may have been misconstrued.’

He almost says “You _think_?” but his mind picks that moment to helpfully remind him how warm he’d felt earlier in the session when he spooned Jax because the man – usually a quick study – just simply couldn’t seem to understand the positional difference between grabbing the waist and grabbing the hips.

Then it brings up the time on Goto’s yacht when Atton had hugged him – damn near _clung_ to him – out of sheer relief at finding him alive and unharmed.

And the conversation on Nar Shaddaa that should have ended in his death but instead ended in Jax holding his hands and accepting Atton, scars and all, as not only Jax’s first apprentice but also his _friend_.

Can’t forget how the cockpit seemed to get warm whenever Jax stopped by, yet remained stubbornly chilled when anyone else dropped in.

To say nothing of how warm he’s been this entire goddamn training session.

‘Um,’ he says eloquently. ‘Uh. I – ah.’

He’s suddenly aware that the issue that brought about this discussion is, in fact, still an issue, even more than it was previously thanks to the intervening make-out session and the _rocking_ , and that the floor of the cargo hold is not an appropriate location to be having a personal revelation of this magnitude. _Especially_ not when Jax is still pinning him like this. Physical stimulation is physical stimulation, after all, and it’s actually pretty difficult to be properly shocked when he’s still hard as durasteel.

‘Atton?’

‘Yeah. Yeah. Uh – _huh_.’ He swallows to play for time as he vainly tries to figure out just how _kriffing long_ this has been A Thing. Onderon, maybe? Nar Shaddaa? Surely not Telos?

_“I mean, it’s not like your half-naked interrogation isn’t a personal fantasy of mine or anything…”_

…Peragus? _Really_?

…more importantly, does Jax still have those briefs?

Atton squashes _that_ train of thought before it can make the situation worse. Evidently his highly-trained observational skills have a blind spot the size of Nal Hutta where his own idiot self is concerned.

Mira’s _never_ going to let him live this down.

He exhales slowly. It does absolutely nothing to lower his heart-rate or soften him up, but it’s a start. ‘Here I was thinking that being a Jedi was meant to make me _better_ at realizing these things,’ he says bitterly.

Jax releases his grip on Atton’s wrists and makes to rise to his feet. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, looking equal parts concerned and upset. ‘I didn’t mean – I never intended to make you uncomfortable –’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ he stammers, because it _is_ fine. Or will be, at least, once he’s wrapped his head around things properly. His brain suggests wrapping his hands around other things instead and he nearly chokes on his own saliva again. It’s not a bad idea (it’s a _fantastic_ idea, according to other parts of him) but _stars_ he’d like just a few minutes to get his thoughts in order first. He hasn’t had a life-altering revelation like this since – well, the _last_ time he was this close to a Jedi – and he’d really appreciate a moment to breathe before exploring the more pleasurable aspects of the experience.

‘It’s not fine! I acted without so much as asking you if you wanted it – that’s damn near _assault_ , and to do that to my own padawan –’

‘For what it’s worth, it wasn’t an official etiquette violation,’ he offers. ‘Your hands were placed totally appropriately.’

Jax gives him an incredibly hamstrung look. ‘This is _serious_ , Atton.’

‘Is that why you’re still on top of me?’

A faint flush appears on his cheeks. ‘No; I’m still on top of you because you haven’t released your leg-lock and I can’t actually _get_ any further off you.’

Oh. Right. He still has body parts below the waist.

‘…the leg lock?’ Jax prompts him. ‘I don’t think I can break it without – um – look, I don’t want you to feel any more uncomfortable around me than you already will.’

‘Who said I felt uncomfortable?’

‘You froze, forgot how to speak, and then actually put the blame on _yourself_ for not realizing how your words had been taken.’

Atton frowns slightly, replaying the conversation. When had he ever blamed himself for – oh. At least it’s kind of reassuring to know that he’s not the only one capable of misconstruing something. He’s just the only one that can apparently do it for _four damn months straight_.

Well, maybe straight’s not the right word, but _still_.

‘I think,’ he says, leaving his legs exactly where they are, ‘that there might have been another misunderstanding there. Just in the opposite direction.’

‘I’m… not following.’ The ex-Jedi gingerly tries to extricate himself from the leg-lock without putting his hands anywhere on Atton’s body. He accomplishes nothing beyond a series of surprisingly pleasurable sensations that do nothing to help Atton word an appropriate response.

After a few abortive attempts Atton manages to say, ‘I was talking about realizing stuff about _myself_ , Jax. Not about realizing that the whole damn ship knew before I did.’

He can practically see Jax’s thoughts playing out across his face. There’s confusion that Atton still hasn’t released the leg-lock, then understanding as he parses Atton’s words, a flash of surprise upon _actually_ understanding the implications of what Atton’s just said, and then… a glimmer of hopeful excitement. ‘I… ah. I see.’ He clears his throat and stops his attempts to escape. ‘I take it that means you, um –’

‘I’m flying blind, yeah. Willingly, mind you, but it’s probably going to take a bit before I’m up to cruising speed.’ His brain catches up with his mouth just in time to realise exactly what he’s implied and he backpedals hard. ‘I mean – that’s assuming that you, uh, weren’t just planning on this being a one-off kind of thing –’

‘No,’ Jax reassures him, lowering back down to his original position flush against Atton’s chest, his face now much closer but still a polite distance away. _Stars_ , the man’s warm. ‘No. I don’t do one-offs. Especially not with you. Though – are you sure? I don’t want you to do this because you’re worried it will affect your training or anything like that.’ His excitement clouds over with guilt. ‘It’s already bad enough that I’m your master. I don’t want this to be me taking advantage of you.’

‘I’m meant to be training _you_ right now,’ Atton points out, in what he hopes is a reasonable tone of voice (the husky tone of _especially not with you_ is making his stomach churn violently; to his credit, he discards his initial assumption of an expired ration bar after only a few seconds’ consideration) – ‘If anything, I’m the one who should be worried I’m taking advantage.’

‘Despite the fact you were the last person onboard the ship to know?’

‘Just because I can be a bit slow on the uptake doesn’t mean I’m not quick to react.’

‘You _froze_ ,’ Jax points out, in an extremely reasonable tone of voice. His mouth begins to turn up into a small smile.

‘Freezing’s a reaction. Flight, fight, freeze or –’ He clamps his unthinking mouth shut just in time. Jax smirks, surprisingly attractively, and suddenly Atton can’t really remember why he didn’t want to say it. ‘Uh. You know.’

The ex-Jedi leans down, his nose almost brushing Atton’s own. ‘Do I?’

He should probably kiss Jax, he thinks. At the very least pick his hands up off the ground and put them somewhere a bit warmer. But old habits die hard and he’s feeling remarkably inexperienced right now so instead he deflects with, ‘I sure hope so, otherwise this is going to get even more awkward than I thought it’d be.’

‘Awkward?’

He can _feel_ himself going red. It really is like he’s sixteen again. ‘I told you, I’m flying blind here.’

Of course Jax doesn’t laugh at him. Of _course_ he doesn’t. He smiles that stupid beatific smile and moves one of his hands to brush Atton’s cheek. ‘You’re a fast learner. And I _highly_ doubt you don’t have at least _some_ idea of how it all works.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ he mutters, leaning into the hand. Despite the calluses it feels really nice. Or maybe it’s because of the calluses. Hard to tell; he’ll have to do some further investigation – _experimentation_ , even. A few seconds later he figures that Jax would probably appreciate some kind of contact too so he finally moves his arms and – after a moment of panicked contemplation – places them very chastely on Jax’s waist.

Yes, it’s not where he’d usually put his hands when he’s this hard with somebody in their underwear lying on top of him, but this is definitely not usual. He doesn’t know what Jax likes. He doesn’t even know what _he_ likes right now. And this is really, _really_ not something that he wants to mess up.

Except he kind of already is because Jax is speaking and Atton has no idea what he’s just said. ‘Sorry, I – uh – missed that.’

Jax runs his thumb across Atton’s cheekbone, smiling. His other hand slides to rest on Atton’s chest – just resting, and high enough that it could almost be a casual touch, which Atton is immeasurably grateful for. ‘I said that you must really be nervous, if I have to call you out on _that_ etiquette violation.’

He can at least grin at that. ‘You started it.’

‘I believe you said it was fine.’

‘The hands, sure. The kissing?’ He casually – carefully – slides one of his hands up Jax’s back until it rests on the back of his neck. ‘That’s a violation for sure. _Especially_ with the tongues.’

‘Well, darn,’ Jax says. The usual glint in his eyes is a lot hungrier than normal and Atton’s still nervous but he suddenly remembers that yes, Jax is just as hard as he is, and even though Jax is a Jedi and his master and a much, much better person than Atton will ever be, he’s still a man. ‘Care to show me how I went wrong then? I seem to learn a lot faster that way.’

Atton has always prided himself on his observational skills. This afternoon’s been a bit of a blow to that, true, but even then he can’t miss _that_ opening.

‘I think I can do that,’ he agrees, and with his heart pounding out of his ears, he gently pulls Jax down for a kiss.

Jax meets him eagerly, warm and close, and Atton mentally congratulates himself on not being completely unobservant.

Within seconds he has completely forgotten that he was ever questioning himself.

He’s not sure who starts it (surely not him?) but soon enough there’s tongues involved again, followed by gentle nips and sucked lips. His hands act of their own accord and he finds himself kneading at Jax’s ass as Jax grinds against him eagerly. A soft grunt escapes him as Jax’s hand drifts lower and begins toying with his nipples; Jax lets out a low keening noise when Atton’s hand drifts lower to match it, pressing against the cleft of his ass.

Just as Atton’s starting to think he might’ve been overthinking things Jax pulls aside to press kisses down his neck and pants, ‘Would it ease those nerves if I sucked your dick?’

It absolutely would but hearing those words from _Jax_ almost breaks his brain on the spot. ‘You’re – _Force,_ yes – a _Jedi_ ,’ he chokes, his mind overloading from picturing the man with his lips wrapped around – _well_.

Then he realises that he’s about to actually see it for real. Scratch that; _feel_ it for real.

Is it still possible to overthink something if he can’t think straight in the first place?

Jax chuckles into the crook of his neck. ‘I’m an _ex_ -Jedi, Atton. And there’s nothing in the Code about blowjobs. Shall I demonstrate?’

‘You’re _killing_ me. Who are you and what have you done with Jax?’

Jax’s response is to latch onto Atton’s neck and suck, hard, as he slides a hand beneath the band of Atton’s underwear. Callused fingers wrap around his length and begin to stroke.

For his part, Atton’s brain more or less shuts down entirely and it takes all of his mental faculties to clap his hand to his mouth before he brings someone running to investigate.

He should probably be a lot more worried about that but he can’t quite bring himself to care right now.

Jax pumps him slowly as he kisses his way down Atton’s neck, down his chest, across his scars and down his stomach. By the time he runs his tongue over Atton’s hipbones the underwear has been pushed down to Atton’s thighs, somehow, and Atton – still panting heavily into his own hand – pushes up onto one elbow just in time to see Jax lick a slow, languid stroke up Atton’s thigh, eyeing his cock hungrily.

Atton crushes his eyes shut. He can’t be seeing that; he _can’t_. Never mind the feeling of the tongue on his body, never mind the hand still pumping him so deliciously slowly. He _can’t_ be seeing Jax so – so _seductive_. So _hungry._

‘Atton.’

Despite himself, he opens his eyes.

Jax smiles, still stroking him tantalisingly slowly. ‘Watch me, hey?’ he says.

And then – his gaze still locked on Atton’s own – he rubs his cheek against Atton’s cock, inhaling deeply, and opens his mouth.

Atton manages to keep his eyes open, somehow, but damned if it’s not the hardest thing he’s ever had to do in his life.

He muffles a whimper as Jax circles the head with his tongue once, twice, thrice before enveloping the tip of Atton’s cock entirely and sucking, _hard_. Pleasure jolts through to the back of his spine like a bolt of lightning and Jax grins – almost _smug_ – before eagerly taking Atton deeper into his mouth.

When he starts to bob, one hand moving down to fondle Atton’s sack, Atton groans aloud.

Encouraged, Jax picks up the pace, mixing shallow licks with deep sucks, tonguing the slit, the shaft, even his balls once or twice; Atton’s vaguely aware of a pulsing thrum over the Force bond, something hungry and eager, and stars dance across his vision when he realises it’s Jax’s own arousal. Jax – his friend, his Master, his _Jax_ – is blowing him, and getting off on it.

Without warning Jax shifts, pulling himself up a little higher, and on his next bob he goes _deep_. Atton’s head pushes against something hard, for a second, then slides past it – no flinch, no hesitation – and Atton curses into his hand as his cock all but disappears into Jax’s mouth. It’s warm – _so_ warm – so _wet_ – so _tight_ –

Hazily, Atton wonders if his hypersensitivity is a side-effect of his new Force connection or simply a result of the fact that it’s Jax – kind, gentle, patient, almost _innocent_ Jax – who’s causing all these pleasurable sensations.

Jax pulls free with a ragged gasp and a wide grin. A single stand of spit stretches between his lips and the tip of Atton’s cock, like a spice-spider’s web, and leaves a line of saliva across his hip when Jax breaks it with his tongue. He pumps Atton slowly, his hand growing slick with precum and spit. ‘ _Force_ , you taste good,’ he murmurs, running his thumb over the slit.

His usual quick-witted reply isn’t there for some reason. He has to settle for a husky, half-panted, ‘It’s all yours.’

Jax grins at him, hungry, as he drags his tongue from the base to the tip of Atton’s cock, where he swirls around the head once before resuming his eager ministrations. Two shallow bobs precede another deep descent – Atton can _feel_ his head sliding past the ridge of Jax’s palate, into the soft tissue of his throat – and the ex-Jedi holds there, his lips practically on Atton’s mound, somehow managing to _swallow_ around the cock in his mouth. In his throat. In _him_.

Atton revises his mental description of Jax to remove any and all mentions of innocence that exist. Or will ever exist. Because – _damn_. He’s had Red Sector visits that were more chaste than this.

His hand shoots to the back of Jax’s head before he’s realised he’s moved at all. He’s threaded his fingers through Jax’s hair and he’s about to thrust up when he catches himself; with gritted teeth he pauses, grip firm but not painfully so, torn between his body’s instincts and the frantically screamed orders of his mind.

Jax’s lips are spread a bit too wide to grin. He pulls up, just a little bit, and then there’s a familiar Force pressure on the back of Atton’s hand, pushing them both back down as he starts _humming_.

Ex-Jedi in-fucking-deed.

Atton starts thrusting up into Jax’s mouth, biting his tongue in an effort to muffle his moans. The ship runs far from silently but the noises Jax is dragging out of him are certain to bring unwanted attention if they get too loud, locked door or no. He _can’t_ stay silent though; he just _can’t_. The vibrations of the humming – the wetness, the _warmth_ – the _pressure_ –

He doesn’t want this to stop. A familiar warmth is spooling in his core and he wants so very, very badly to keep this wonderful slick suction on his cock for as long as he can but this _isn’t_ the Red Sector, this is the damned cargo-bay floor of the _Ebon Hawk_ , and he might be enthusiastic but he’s not as young as he used to be either – Force or no Force, refractory periods are refractory periods. He knows Jax wouldn’t mind – Jax is still _Jax_ – but he’ll be damned if this first time ends prematurely. He still has _some_ dignity.

‘Whoa, hold up there,’ he manages, prying the ex-Jedi off him with a hiss. Trails of glistening saliva stretch between Jax’s lips and his slick-coated dick and he’s tempted, so tempted to see what it looks like with cum instead, but that will have to wait for another time. Assuming Jax is down for it, at least, though after _that_ showing he’d be amazed if Jax wasn’t. ‘ _Stars_ , you’re too good at that.’

A burst of slightly guilty pride washes over the Force bond. ‘Practice makes perfect,’ he says, with only a small flush on his cheeks. He gives Atton’s cock one last lick before crawling up the pilot’s body for a kiss.

Well, on the topic of practice…

Before he can start overthinking again Atton rolls them over, gently nipping at Jax’s chin, at his neck as he reaches down. There’s already a sizeable wet patch on the front of Jax’s underwear, sticky and slick even through the fabric, and a little thrill runs through Atton as he realises that it’s because of _him_. ‘Guess I’d better start practicing, then.’

Jax’s reply cuts off to a muffled moan as Atton squeezes the sizable bulge through the underwear. It’s a little weird – the texture’s familiar but the angle is different, not to mention the lack of associated sensations – but it’s definitely not unpleasant, and Atton finds himself eagerly sucking at Jax’s nipples while he frees them both from the confines of their limited clothing.

Then, and only then, does he glance down.

He’s seen dicks before. He served in two different armies and spent years in the seedier places of the Outer Rim; he’s seen every colour, shape and size they come in, to say nothing of the amount of time he’s spent running his own weapons inspections. But this time he recognises the thrill that runs through him for what it really is – arousal. Excitement. _Anticipation_.

Though he has to admit, it’s never been _anywhere_ this strong before.

He’ll blame it on the blowjob.

And the fact that Jax’s tip is already slick with musky precum.

He’s seized by the sudden urge to taste it, to see if it’s as salty and heady as it smells, but from personal experience he’s pretty sure Jax would appreciate just a little bit of warm-up before being licked like a frozen nutrient pouch. Also, he’s more than a little nervous at the idea of putting something that _girthy_ in his mouth. Much like its owner, it’s a little shorter than him, but better-muscled.

The bond pulses with muddied concern; Jax can sense his nerves, it seems. ‘You don’t have to –’

‘I want to, though,’ he says, and he really does mean it. Even if he’s just the smallest bit terrified too. ‘I want to taste your cock, Jax. Let me?’

Jax flushes as Atton squirms down to lie between his legs. ‘What happened to flying blind?’

‘Hey, I said _taste_. Don’t get too upset when it fails to live up to expectations.’

‘Oh, believe me –’ he reaches down to run his fingers through Atton’s hair and Atton can’t help but smile stupidly – ‘You’ve already surpassed _all_ my expectations. Don’t you dare sell yourself short because you’re improvising instead of falling back on experience.’

Emboldened, he nuzzles into Jax’s groin. It’s definitely different – smell, texture, heat, _girth_ – but it sets his heart pounding just as strongly as anything in his past ever did. That’s a good sign, surely? ‘At least you know I’m a quick study.’

Jax closes his eyes and exhales through his teeth as Atton pumps him, planting kisses up the inside of his thighs. When he opens them again they’re almost hazy, becoming unfocussed with lust, and Atton drags a soft moan out of him when he runs his thumb across the slit of his tip.

Then – because if it worked for him, he figures it’ll probably work for Jax too – he takes a deep breath, opens his mouth wide, and licks a thick, wide stripe across Jax’s pulsing head.

The noise that escapes Jax’s mouth makes his own cock twitch. _Hard_.

Distractedly, he notes that the precum does indeed taste as salty and heady as he thought it would. He quickly decides he likes it and sets to work trying to earn another taste.

He starts shallow at first, mimicking Jax’s own earlier actions – circling his tongue around the head, breaking up bobs with licks and sucks to the shaft, one or two strong sucks to the tip. When Jax whimpers and gives the faintest of thrusts Atton goes for broke and pushes deep, eager to feel Jax’s heft deeper –

He successfully rams Jax’s cock straight into a reflex he didn’t know he had and is forced to jerk away, spluttering and coughing, his flush of arousal darkening to something a bit more humiliated.

Jax’s hand is on his face in seconds. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, and Atton almost hates that the amusement in his tone is all but totally hidden by the concern pulsing through the Force bond.

Atton coughs again, wipes the blurriness from his eyes. ‘Didn’t – _hrk_ – didn’t expect – that.’ He coughs again and shakes his head in an attempt to shake off his embarrassment. ‘Force. You made that look easy.’

Jax chuckles as he strokes Atton’s cheek. ‘Like I said – practice makes perfect. Don’t rush; we’ll have plenty of opportunities to – _haa_ – teach you some new tricks.’ He bites his lip as Atton starts pumping him again; a small grin appears on his face. ‘Good to continue?’

Atton’s answer is to determinedly swallow the first inch or two of Jax’s cock and resume bobbing again. Just… not quite as deep, this time.

Jax runs his fingers through Atton’s hair with an appreciative moan. ‘You really are a quick study.’ Carefully, he tilts his hips until he can pull one of his legs free; Atton follows his lead and shifts his weight to assist, taking advantage of the way Jax props his knee up to trail his fingers up the back of Jax’s thigh (it earns him a surprised hiss of pleasure, and if his mouth wasn’t split so wide he’d be grinning).

The hand in Atton’s hair moves away and he frowns a little. Only until he looks up again, though: Jax has three of his own fingers as deep in his mouth as Atton’s cock was, and the sight makes Atton almost rut himself against the floor.

Briefly, he curses that he doesn’t have longer arms or a better angle; that could be _him_ in there.

Huh. Now _that’s_ an idea for the future.

Jax pulls his fingers free with a soft _pop_ and then, to Atton’s unabashed surprise, reaches down and around behind his own bent leg – and pushes two slick, wet fingers into his own hole.

Pazaak cards scream through Atton’s head unprompted. Old habits die hard, indeed. ‘Jax –’

‘It’s been a while,’ Jax says by way of explanation, with absolutely no shame. ‘And you’re definitely not on the small side.’

Oh.

 _Oh_.

**_Oh._ **

‘I thought…’ Well, he’s not really sure _what_ he’d thought. He hadn’t been thinking much, really. ‘I mean –’

Jax chuckles. ‘By your own admission you’re flying blind. Don’t get me wrong, it’s far from unpleasant, but I suspect that neither of us have the patience for a proper stretch at the moment. Especially since we don’t really have proper lubrication handy. And while I approve of your enthusiasm I’d really hate for your, uh, _first_ experience to be on the cargo-bay floor.’

The man is far, far too good for his own good. Atton’s never going to complain about it again. ‘You make a good point.’ He sucks on the head again, lapping up the salty pre-cum that’s collected there, before a thought occurs to him. ‘Uh – should I be helping you there?’ _And if so, how?_ , but he doesn’t speak that one aloud. It’s not like he _doesn’t_ have a pretty good idea of how it works (a hole’s a hole, right?) but he’s only ever dealt with single fingers there, for distraction or added pleasure, not for _stretching_.

‘I mean…’ Jax bites his lip, considering, and Atton takes the opportunity for another deep swallow (though not _too_ deep this time; he’s a fast learner after all). The ex-Jedi’s eyelids flutter and he lets out a short hiss. ‘ _Force_ , that’s good. Um – let’s hold that for another time. I’m running out of patience here.’

‘You? Impatient?’

Jax rolls his eyes, then groans as Atton begins timing his strokes with the pump of Jax’s fingers. ‘Maybe… not the right word. Haa-ah – _stars_ , please again, that again –’

Atton obligingly hollows his cheeks and starts humming again. He wants to grin but it’s a little hard with his mouth stretched so wide. Below his hands, he watches as Jax slides a third finger into himself, curling and twisting and spreading with practiced ease, and he finds himself thinking he could watch that for hours. Increasingly desperate whimpers and groans are lacing through Jax’s panting now; he revises that estimate to minutes. Seconds, maybe, because Jax is beginning to move his hips and Atton’s baser instincts are doing a damn good job of overriding his nerves.

With a faint grunt Jax pulls his fingers clear. ‘On your back,’ he orders huskily and Atton scrambles to comply. The ex-Jedi straddles him shamelessly, frotting his cock against Atton’s own (something Atton has no hesitation in adding to the list of _absolutely, yes, more please_ , alongside pretty much everything else they’ve done so far). ‘Are you ready?’

‘I feel like I should be asking you that.’

Jax grins. ‘If _this_ –’ he pumps their dicks together and Atton exhales sharply – ‘wasn’t a solid enough indicator… Atton, I’ve wanted you inside me for _months_ now.’

He doesn’t say it aloud but Atton knows him well enough to hear the implications: he wants Atton to want this, too. The man really is too good for his own good.

He returns the grin with more confidence than he feels, running his hands along Jax’s thighs. ‘Can’t say it’s been months on my end but it’s feeling a lot like it has been. Uhm… anything I should be – _hn_ – aware of?’

Jax shifts a little higher, leans in for an almost bruising kiss as he pumps them one more time. ‘Just go slow at first. Otherwise… I’ll assume you have a pretty good idea of what to do.’

‘Tab A, slot B, repeat,’ he confirms.

Jax chuckles and straightens up again. ‘Such a romantic.’

Atton watches, almost spellbound, as Jax reaches below himself to guide Atton’s cock into position. With his second hand he reaches back, stretching – or spreading? – and then there’s a slick, tight heat at the tip of his dick and he has to force himself to not push up into it.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Jax lowers down. His eyes flutter shut and his mouth opens into a small “o” as he takes the head; by the time he’s halfway down Atton’s grabbed his hips (not to pull, he’s not that far gone yet, but definitely encouraging because _stars_ –)

Belatedly Atton realises that Jax is starting to soften and a rush of concern floods through him. Is he hurting him? Should he stop? He knows the man’s tough but this is _different_ – once upon a time he wouldn’t have cared if he was causing pain but this is so very, very different and that realisation almost scares him more than the idea he might be actually hurting Jax. Especially because less than half an hour ago he had absolutely no idea that _this_ was where their training session was going to end up. He’d have at least tried to find some holoporn for reference if he had…

Half-panicking, he grabs for Jax’s dick and begins to stroke. ‘Are you okay?’ he eventually manages to pant out.

‘Hnn – yeah, I’m okay. It’s just been a while. All normal.’ His mouth curls into a small grin. ‘And like I said, you’re not exactly small. You’re doing great, though.’

This is absolutely backwards, Atton’s decided, but he doesn’t have the mental faculties right now to turn it into a smart comment. ‘Uh… you too.’ Thankfully Jax is too preoccupied to call him out on his blunt assessment of the obvious.

A few seconds later Atton lets himself relax a little as Jax’s cock twitches and begins hardening again underneath his fingers. A second or two later he involuntarily groans as Jax pulls up, just a little, then sinks all the way down and _grinds_ against him. ‘ _Stars_ –’

‘ _So_ good,’ Jax murmurs. His eyes crack open; they’re hazy, lust-filled, hungry, and the urge to thrust into him is almost painful in its intensity. Atton rocks his hips a little, just to take the edge off, and Jax’s answering groan is almost enough to make him groan again himself. Instead he shifts his grip to Jax’s hipbones – sharper now, without the barrier of underwear – and adds to the grind. Jax hisses through his teeth, his fingers curling into Atton’s chest, and leans down to kiss him. Then – with his lip between Atton’s teeth, with his chest pressed against Atton’s own – he begins to ride.

Now _this_ bit Atton’s familiar with.

Though _stars_ , it’s never felt quite so _tight_.

It takes all of his willpower to let Jax set the pace. It’s been years, decades maybe since he’s had anything more than a quick fuck to take the edge off; it’s been ever longer since he’s genuinely _cared_ about his partner like this, like he cares for Jax. It’s like he’s sixteen all over again, caught between the baser instincts of his body and his stupid, terrified brain second-guessing his every move.

Except now, he’s with Jax and even past the frenetic counting of pazaak cards Atton can feel a familiar warmth reaching out to him through the Force. Never demanding, never forceful – just extending. Reaching out. It’s hazier than it usually is, burning hotter than it usually is but there’s no mistaking that it’s Jax.

‘Atton,’ Jax whispers, his tongue tracing the lobe of Atton’s ear, and Atton digs his fingers into Jax’s ass like it’s a lifeline. His name shouldn’t sound like that. His name shouldn’t sound so – so _good_. ‘Atton, please – _more_ of you –’

He drives upward as he reaches out, past his own mental walls, reaching out for Jax with his mind and body together. The warmth envelops him hungrily but not greedily, ensconces him as deeply as it can, pulling him into its burning core – _safe_ , he realises; he feels _safe_. Safe, and warm, and _Force_ Jax is so _tight_ –

Something unspools in his core and he wraps his arms around Jax’s back. ‘Knees up,’ he grunts, then rolls them again so that Jax’s back lies flat against the cargo-bay floor. The ex-Jedi’s ankles lock behind Atton’s back, pulling him in deep, and Atton muffles his groan into Jax’s neck. The steel plating is murder on his knees but he doesn’t care, there’s only a single door between them and the rest of the crew but he doesn’t _care_ and he starts driving in deep, harder, faster, as beneath him Jax groans and pleads and encourages and _stars_ –

He’s not going to last. It’s been too long, he’s too on-edge; he’s not going to be able to hold out much longer. Jax is too good, too _good_ and _too_ good. Muscle memory kicks in and he unhooks a hand to reach for genitalia that Jax doesn’t have, bumps into Jax’s cock on the way down and after a moment of confusion starts pumping.

Jax chokes out a whine, drags Atton down by the shoulders to muffle his cries in Atton’s mouth. ‘Close – oh Atton, so _close_ –’

He tries to keep in time with his own thrusts but he’s close too, too close for that level of control and his jerking becomes erratic and frantic as he desperately tries to count cards in his head. The heat builds in his groin, spreads up through his core, washes over him from the Force, builds and builds and _builds_ –

With a heady groan Jax bucks, sending thick white ropes over his stomach and Atton’s hand. The Force bond erupts into the sound of stars and Atton’s vision goes white as Jax clenches around him. He has no chance to pull out, no chance for a clean exit; he comes hilt-deep in Jax with a breathless gasp and stays there, rocking in time with the pulses of his orgasm, until the world fades back into view.

His world, as is turns out, is Jax’s serenely peaceful face beneath him. The ex-Jedi is panting too, his eyes still hazy with lust and emotion, and the words _I love you_ nearly escape Atton’s mouth before he catches them.

He’s known since Peragus, really. It might not have been conscious knowledge but he did know, somewhere deep down. He can admit that now. But even with all that’s transpired since then he knows he’s still not worthy of Jax, of this wonderful, beautiful man lying spent and exhausted beneath him. He never will be. So he holds his tongue and settles for pressing a deep, gentle kiss to Jax’s lips.

Then, because old habits die hard: ‘That… was _definitely_ an… etiquette violation.’

Jax laughs. ‘You or me?’

Atton slowly pulls out, grimacing in sympathy with Jax’s own wince of discomfort, before sprawling bonelessly atop Jax with a grunt. He remembers the mess on Jax’s stomach a little too late to do him any good – oh well. It’s a problem for later, when he can muster up the energy to give a damn. ‘Both of us. _Force_. That… _Force_ , Jax.’

Jax rests a hand on the back of Atton’s head and starts gently stroking. It feels almost as good as the orgasm. ‘If that’s you flying blind, I’m kind of glad you didn’t figure this out earlier. _Damn_.’

He closes his eyes, leaning into the gentle touches as he intertwines his own fingers with Jax’s free hand. A gentle squeeze; he did good. _They_ did good. ‘You’re one to talk… I thought Jedi were meant to be blushing virgins.’

‘ _Ex_ -Jedi, Atton. Ten years is a long time to make up for lost time.’

He’s kind of tempted to find out just what else Jax learned in those ten years but honestly, right now, he’s feeling far too content and far too comfortably exhausted to be too much of a smart-ass. ‘Good thing we’ve only got about four months to make up for, huh?’

Jax laughs and wraps his arms fully around Atton’s torso, pulling him into a warm embrace. ‘Definitely.’

A surge of warmth and peace floods through the Force and Atton closes his eyes, content for the first time in a very, very long time. It won’t last – things this good never last, not for people like him – but right now he’s happy, and at peace, and for now, that will be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for subversion; it's not just bottoms who can be nervous first-timers, y'know? Poor Atton. He's so fun to write in this series though. And it's _so_ nice to write something wholesome as opposed to the cursed cesspit that is 'and consience calls the guilty to come home'. Though I guess that story is technically responsible for this series so... yay?


End file.
